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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23238211">a simple request</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/leedeeloo/pseuds/leedeeloo'>leedeeloo</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>TWRP | Tupper Ware Remix Party (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, Violent Fantasies, marking via tattoo mention, real extreme bdsm fantasies</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 13:55:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>960</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23238211</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/leedeeloo/pseuds/leedeeloo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sung has been making a lot of requests. Eventually, Havve does too.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Doctor Sung/Havve Hogan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>a simple request</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>the working title of this was "slit my throat" and that tells you exactly what you're getting into</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Sung was just pathetic.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d been clinging to Havve for days, making requests. Not his usual asking for kisses, trying to attach at Havve’s hip and being as close as possible. He was clingy, but not notably moreso. The begging he peppered in was different.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Push me against the wall.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Slap me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please choke me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And Havve obliged. He always did, but he was quicker to respond to these requests. Sung would whimper, he’d look absolutely lovestruck, forcing himself to not ask for more even though he craved it, letting Havve leave him hanging. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Just before bed, he asked Havve to pull his hair while he was cuddled up next to the robot’s chest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Voice shaking, almost too quiet to hear, Sung made one more request.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wish I could ask you to slit my throat.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Havve didn’t sleep easy after that, imagining the scene. Not of killing Sung, not that far, but slicing his neck open. If Sung would cry or moan, his head tilted back, bleeding all over a crisp white t-shirt. Dragging the knife along his skin, if he’d sweat, combined with how his lip would always tremble in anticipation, he’d try to have an air of calm collection. Havve would be able to see his pulse for once, pounding like he knew it always did. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked at Sung in the dark, his lips parted, hair catching the little bit of light from the window and looking like it was glowing. He’d left scars on Sung, but nothing on his face, nowhere visible. The closest he’d gotten was the tattoo on the back of Sung’s head, above the nape of his neck. A simple H.H., Havve had poked it into his flesh himself, Sung digging his nails into his palms the whole while. Havve liked to touch it, ruffle the hair there, making Sung flush and worry people might see it, know how owned he was.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once Sung’s hair was long enough to fall over it and cover it, he was going to touch it up. He liked the first month of it’s healing, how skittish Sung was over his bare scalp, how that would melt away when they were alone, morphing into pride of being marked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If he slit Sung’s throat, there’d be the hassle of healing, what lie he’d come up with. How he’d have a scar, another gift from Havve. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Havve didn’t think he would be able to stop after that one. He’d be eager to press a blade into places everyone would see on Sung, fueled from having done it already. He knew Sung would let him, alter their rules, soon enough be holding back tears as Havve cut his face, how good he’d look with his lip slashed open, a scar making it puffier, pouty. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was gripping Sung’s shoulder with a dangerous amount of force. There’d be bruises, he’d have to make it up to him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He forced himself to calm down, to take slow deep breaths. He wanted to cover Sung’s chest in a myriad of cuts, make him count them all, then rub salt in them and watch him writhe and bite his tongue. Tomorrow, whatever request Sung had, however he wanted to be hurt, Havve would keep going. Make him thank Havve for it, smile while he did, he looked so good forcing a smile while he sniveled, almost as good as when Havve would catch him touching his scars, knowing where they were even when they were hidden by his clothes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He fell asleep on that train of thought, remembering all the times he’d watched Sung without him noticing, how he stood a little differently when he thought no one was there to see.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sung was always up first in the morning, so Havve wasn’t surprised when he was alone in the bed as he woke. He pulled the sheets over his head, rolled onto his stomach. The morning light made him shy about his face, but he wasn’t going to get up and put the mask on yet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t long before Sung came back in, breathing hard, heading for his bathroom to shower. A pity he didn’t say anything, Havve lamented as the water turned on, he liked to smell Sung when he was sweaty, to get him flustered. He rolled onto his back, sheets still covering him completely, taking the chance to stretch out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Sung came out, he didn’t get under the sheets with Havve. He laid on top of them, overlooking Havve, and he could smell the cucumber body wash. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sung leaned forward, pressed a kiss to Havve’s covered face, smiling. His lips popped apart, about to say something, but he reconsidered, laying down next to Havve instead. Havve slid the sheet down, just enough for his eyes to peer out, just enough to see the pure adoration scrawled across Sung’s face. His hair was wet, sticking to his face which was flushed, body still calming down from his run. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Again Sung’s lips parted, about to say something, but didn’t. He wormed his way closer to Havve, put his hand on Havve’s chest. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Havve rubbed his feet together under the sheets, watching Sung shut his eye, smile still on his face. He pulled the sheets back over his face, tried to put his hand on Sung without disturbing that too much. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Kiss me.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Havve ordered. Sung started to pull the sheets down, and Havve held them in place. He considered specifying what he wanted, but Sung could figure it out, he was sure.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sung hummed as he smiled. He carefully placed his hand on Havve’s covered face, sliding his thumb around until he found his lips. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sung placed his lips to Havve’s wetting the sheet with his tongue as they met.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>what was i on about in 2017? knives, apparently.<br/>lemme know what you think, goad me into writing/finishing more wildly kinky shit, or whatever else you wanna say, either here or my tumblr, @sunghausen!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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